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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24903442">Lungs of A Lark</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lxck/pseuds/Lxck'>Lxck</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bird Watching turned sex excursion, Blow Jobs, M/M, Public Blow Jobs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 02:54:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,156</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24903442</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lxck/pseuds/Lxck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Stanley puts Richie's uncontrollable mouth to use.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>82</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Lungs of A Lark</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Stanley knew better than to bring Richie of all people along with him on his birdwatch, but the other had insisted relentlessly to join the excursion. Up and down, Richie swore he would keep his mouth shut and could sit quietly as long as Stan needed him to. Again, Stan had known better. But still, he caved because Richie does that thing where he looks so </span>
  <em>
    <span>devastated, </span>
  </em>
  <span>his lips pulled in a pouting frown and his eyes huge behind his coke-bottle glasses. It was like kicking a puppy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had just parked the car and were walking along the nature trail when Richie couldn’t handle the quiet anymore, and Stan hadn’t even told him it was time shut up yet. Sketchbook tucked under his arm, Stan glanced over as Richie started wondering aloud how many homeless people live in local parks, or how many people have snuck into the bush to have sex here and if they looked hard enough would they find used condoms around and who was the poor fucker they had out here cleaning that shit up because they can’t just have it sitting around, right, the birds would try to eat that shit and then they’d choke and whoa, dude, did you ever see a dead bird with a condom hanging out of its mouth and-. At that point, Stan held his sketchbook in one hand and swung it around to slam it against Richie’s chest. Richie caught it with a hard ‘oof’, hands instinctively holding it to his chest. He got the hint and stopped talking about dead birds.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sweet, sweet, silence settled between them as Stan took them off the mulched trail, carefully holding back branches to let Richie cross through without cutting at his clothes. Not that Richie would care, but that was why Stan did. He cared </span>
  <em>
    <span>for</span>
  </em>
  <span> Richie, in a number of ways. It only took about two seconds before Richie looked back at Stan with that goofy grin and made an expected trashmouth comment. “Ooh, Staniel, you gonna take me into a bush and fuck me? No condom though, right, we don’t want to kill the birds. Bareback for the environment.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>For a moment, it was difficult for Stan to keep a straight face, and he closed his eyes as the smile threatened to pull across his lips. Richie wasn’t that funny, Stan told himself. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He wasn’t that funny</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Truth be told, he was, but Stan was trying very hard to be the one in control of this situation and if Richie knew he could get Stan to life, if he could get </span>
  <em>
    <span>anyone</span>
  </em>
  <span> to laugh, he would always have a bit of sway in any given situation. Stanley absolutely could not give Richie the satisfaction here or he’d never shut up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Stanley didn’t give him a chuck, Richie’s pout returned as he slid one hand into the pocket of his jacket, the other still holding his date’s sketchbook. “Bareback for the environment would be a great fucking bumper sticker.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You would have made a fortune in the sixties with a line like that.” Stan allowed, pausing to look at the landmarks and ducking under a familiar tree branch that arched like a cat’s tail with a broken tip. It took a minute before Richie noticed the change in direction and he gave a low shout before turning to follow Stan. “We’re close. I suggest you get whatever you desperately need to say out now or I’ll leave you bound and gagged right here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Perhaps unsurprisingly, Richie was quiet for a solid minute as they walked through the undergrowth. When he spoke again, his voice was laced with heat. “Fuck, Stan, you can’t just tease a guy like that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I can.” Coming to a clearing, Stan righted himself and looked pointedly back at Richie. He grabbed his chin while the taller man was crouched low to get through the branches, guiding him up to stand erect as they stepped towards the center of the clearing. The lust that singed Richie’s voice also warmed his gaze as those heavy-lidded eyes zeroed in on Stan, lips parting almost on instinct. Before he could speak, though, Stan had his thumb over his lips, closing them again with a little pressure. “Be a good boy, Rich.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The summer light caught the bob of Richie’s throat perfectly, his peppered stubble spreading to his neck highlighting the motion and Stan pressed a quick kiss there. He savored the burn as he dragged his lips across the dark, coarse hair, pulling back with a satisfied smile. Richie, however, was anything but satisfied, and the slight curl of red around his ears told Stan he had at least flustered Richie into silence for a few minutes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dropping his hand, Stan retreated to a bench at the edge of the clearing. Weeds and vines grew around it, part of a long-forgotten city project left to nature after drained funding. The seat of the bench was cleared after Stan had discovered it a few weeks back, and he brushed some stray leaves away before he sat down. Agitated, Richie paced the clearing a few times, dropping the sketchbook frustratedly into Stan’s lap so he could push both of his hands into his jacket. It shouldn’t amuse Stanley so much, but it does, and he settles into the bench, paging open his book with a measured grace that drives Richie up a fucking wall. He lets Richie continue to pace and then finally calls to him, voice low but fierce. “Richard. Sit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was a shining moment Stan thought Richie might argue. The lumbering comedian stopped, jaw working as his tongue laved the inside of his cheek. But then he ducked his head and sat beside Stanley on the bench. It gave a creak under his added weight, the last sound from either of them as they settled into the silence of the clearing. After several moments of ear ringing reticence, Stan was in his element. Bird song resumed, Richie turning his head as he, too, started to notice just how many things moved and rustled in a quiet forest. When the brush behind them pattered, Richie twisted around, glancing nervously at Stan. He was unnerved with the peace, finding a palpable dissatisfaction with the lack of urban noise. Or, maybe he just missed the sound of his own voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“St-” Richie started to whisper, but Stanley snapped his hand out to clap it over Richie’s mouth, eyes peering through the brush to try and track the bright yellow feathers of a warbler. This time he expected Richie to stay quiet and follow the order, but apparently Stan had pressed on too many buttons because Richie </span>
  <em>
    <span>bit </span>
  </em>
  <span>his hand. When he jerked the hand back with a hushed curse, Stan quickly snapped his hand out to slap Richie for the stunt. Unfortunately, the hard clap of his hand against Richie’s cheek was enough to startle the bird Stan was so intent on watching, and he looked over with a pinched expression only to find that impossibly triumphant grin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It set Stan’s blood on fire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Fine. If Richie wanted to open his mouth, Stan would put it to good use. Stan’s hand snapped out again, and he saw Richie’s shoulders tense for another slap, but lithe fingers closed in the curls of Richie’s unruly black hair. He jerked him down before Richie could even breathe a whisper of a comment, forcing him from the bench and onto his knees on the grass. Then he let his hair go, fingers drawing across Richie’s jaw to the other side of his face to reposition the grip on his hair, holding each other's gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A silent question of consent arose from Stan’s tipped brow, and Richie nodded his confirmation enthusiastically.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Stan slid his gaze back to the trees, fist tight in Richie’s hair as he guided him to kneel between his legs. Richie moved with eager energy, hands already at the button of Stan’s pants, working them open while he nosed the join of his legs. His mouth lolled open, tongue daringly close to the crotch of Stan’s slacks but then Richie was pulled away, a disappointed whine leaving his exposed throat. The man above him spoke with such control, no one would know he was about to get his dick sucked by a famous comedian. “Don’t get my pants wet.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span>, it had Stan hard and trapped painfully against the khaki cloth. Not needing to be told twice, Richie unzipped Stan’s pants, hand fumbling inside to pull his cock free, stroking Stan’s length as he exposed him. Licking his lips, Stan focused on giving Richie as little auditory satisfaction as possible, making it like he was preoccupied with his task of bird watching even though every fiber of his being was attuned to Richie. The way his hand twisted around his dick in a well-practiced motion, how his thumb rubbed the exposed head with each downstroke. Stan was even more acutely aware of Richie’s silver tongue pressed flat against the underside of his shaft, working to the tip before his mouth was sinking down on his length.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hand in Richie’s dark curls remained unwavering and the only hint that this had any sort of effect on Stan at all was the shudder of his breath and the jump of his cock under Richie’s expert mouth. He followed the bob of Richie’s head, measuring each breath to stop himself from moaning and sighing even though Richie sucked him so well. Every upward pull of his hot, hollowed mouth gripped Stan’s cock so tight, it was like Richie was trying to suck him dry. His hips chased that tantalizing tightness, and Richie stilled as if commanded to, tongue still working along the vein of his length. Hands on Stan's thighs pulled his hips up, wordlessly pleading for Stanley to fuck Richie's face, to force him to take his cock as deep into his throat as he could.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Deciding it kind of defeated the purpose of playing disinterested, Stan fixed his grip at the back of Richie's head, guiding his head down. The quickened motion drew a low breath from Stan's lips, eyes fluttering shut. Richie did it again; he controlled the moment, even if it was Stan fucking Richie's willing mouth. A soft curse left Stan's lips next as he held Richie's head still, using his hips now to buck into that gorgeous trash mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Spit drooled down the side of Richie's mouth and he stared up at Stan with a lusty haze in his eyes. He loved making Stan lose control, loved the way he finally gave in to the fire Richie lit in the pit of the bird enthusiasts' stomach. Looking down at Richie, Stan audibly moaned, the sound perfectly punctuated by the short, wet grunts his thrusting elicited from Richie's willing throat. It was absolutely filthy, the way his swollen wet lips looked around Stan's spit slicked dick. Heat roared through him, sweat glistening on the back of his neck as the sight, sound, and /feel/ of Richie crashed across his senses. For a moment, he considered being courteous and warning him of the impending orgasm. But he remembered the sighting Richie had cost him with that mouth of his and he simply pressed deeper into Richie's throat as his fevered dick pulsed and finally released.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Beneath him, Richie made a choked sound but didn't pull away even as Stan loosened his grip in. He swallowed what he could, lips tight along the shaft as he pulled off so as not to spill a drop. A satisfied shudder drifted from the tip of Stan’s spine down, and he drew his fingers appreciatively through Richie’s hair. Fixing his glasses, Richie smiled up at Stan, lips parting for the thumb that traced his flushed lips. Then he tucked Stan’s flaccid cock back into his pants, fixing him up like the good boy he was before he returned to his seat beside Stan, leaning against his shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Only another minute passed before Stan stood, hand out to help Richie to his feet and lace their fingers together. Richie didn’t argue, but he looked confused by the change in agenda. “We can stay, I’ll be quiet this time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The smell of our sex will scare off anything worth seeing.” He bent to pick the sketchbook up from the ground where it had fallen in their frenzied activity. “There are other tits I want to look at.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh! Staniel gets off a good one!” Richie barked a laugh, beaming as he followed Stan through the undergrowth. Then his voice lowered, and without looking back, Stan knew there was that lust in his eyes again. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Another</span>
  </em>
  <span> good one, I should say.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>This time Stan lets himself laugh. Because as much as he tried to stay in complete control of any given moment, Richie was always there. </span>
  <em>
    <span>He liked Richie always being there</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
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